


Dried Earth

by honeybun, Sabo (Sabou)



Category: Pilgrimage (2017)
Genre: David is a panty sniffer, Feminization, I am so sorry, M/M, Oral Sex, Smut, okie au, service top David
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:27:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28195410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeybun/pseuds/honeybun, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sabou/pseuds/Sabo
Summary: ‘I’ve not seen this before,’ David says, brown hand coming to fiddle with the hem, dipping under to fondle the tops of Diarmuid’s thighs just as he’d imagined. Dee’s legs shake a little.
Relationships: Brother Diarmuid/The Mute
Comments: 6
Kudos: 9





	Dried Earth

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of a birthday gift for Sabo, written by Honeybun.

Dee felt a certain spring in his step as he approached the farm David had worked in over several summers, harvest and planting up and fixing machinery he now knew as well as the back of his hand - or Dee’s. 

The dress he wears brushes softly against the tops of his thighs, his small bag dangling from his shoulder. It puts a thrill through him to come and meet David like this, his boyfriend after years of waiting, even before he knew it was what he’d wanted. To present himself in this dreamlike reality. 

He’d shown David the dress a week or so ago, both of them stuck together like toffee on the couch, sweet and close. Dee had been scrolling through his phone, David’s eyes on the screen, occasionally mumbling about something or other he saw, big paw on Dee’s waist tightening for his attention.

‘That’s nice,’ David had muttered against his ear, one hand raising to point at the instragram post.

The girl wears a sweet lemon yellow slip dress, lace edging and floaty, Dee clicks on the advertisement. 

Dee goes ahead and saves it on his account for later, buying it quickly in the bathroom, thumb fast as he zooms through checkout and paypal credentials, seeing the ‘Confirmation’ page sooner than should be possible. 

It had arrived and Dee had to hide it away quickly as he hears David’s footsteps approaching, shoving the package inside a cubbyhole by the door. 

When he’d put it on that morning he’d shivered a little, the material relatively thin while soft, the lace at the bottom rubbed enticingly against the tops of his thighs. He can imagine David’s large, steadily growing browner hands tugging at it, tugging it up and cupping the milky flesh of his thighs.

As he walks closer towards the farm he sees David’s large form on top of one of the ancient tractors, pulling into the side of a field and switching off. Dee’s plimsols tiptoe around grit and dirt until he’s by the side of David’s tractor.

He doesn’t see David’s face until he’s jumped from the tall height of the bay and landed next to Dee. While they’ve been together for a while now - Dee counts the days - he hasn’t quite seen this type of look on David’s face. Dark and deep and promising things Dee is vaguely afraid of, not in the act itself but in the overwhelmingness of it all, that David might engulf him like a wave and never let him back to the surface again. Dee could learn to breathe underwater, probably, he could easily love that watery embrace.

David’s large hand rings around Dee’s small wrist as he takes in Dee, eyes flicking up and down, and eyebrow quirking, ‘I’ve not seen this before,’ David says, brown hand coming to fiddle with the hem, dipping under to fondle the tops of Diarmuid’s thighs just as he’d imagined. Dee’s legs shake a little.

‘Got it in the mail this week’ mumbles Dee, eyes unable to hold David’s, voice quiet and small as he pushes a little into David’s hands.

David looks around furtively, scanning the scene. Hedges come up tall and the crops roll for a mile until the ramshackle barn appears. The other farm hands will have gone home already, the farmer tending to the animals.

His hands bunch up Dee’s dress, and with a gasp from him he yanks it up, exposing a soft white belly and small ruffled panties, ‘David! Don’t-’ Dee’s eyes slide shut as David wholly picks him up and places him on the bonnet of the tractor, spread out so he can see. 

He takes his fill, flipping up Dee’s dress to show his panties, tugging them and delighting in how they aren’t taut, that Dee barely makes an impression in them.

‘Are you ready?’ David asks, voice husky.

Dee makes a warbling noise, hands skittering about on the bonnet of the car, dusty metal ruining the light colour of his dress, ‘F-for what?’ 

David leans down, one hand bracing on the tractor, the other trailing down to the zip in his jeans, tugging it down and pushing a hand inside, ‘Well…. You think I don’t know why you came dressed up like this, huh?’ David’s eyes are dark, predatory, they pin Dee like a butterfly under glass, ‘You can’t expect for me to see you _like this_ and not want anything, Dee.’

Dee feels drunk, especially when David pulls his manhood from his jeans, red and already weeping, full like he’d been wanting it all day, it pulls a keen from Dee’s throat just to see. 

David strokes himself, kissing up Dee’s spread legs which shake as they have been doing since he started down this path, laving his tongue behind Dee’s knee, sensitive and jumpy. Dee can hear the slick, wet sounds of David as he touches himself, worse when David spits in his palm and renews his touches with vigor, groaning.

Dee whimpers, hand shyly pawing at David’s chest, trying, trying to reach down, before being gently slapped away, ‘Not for you, not yet,’ David teases infuriatingly, grin slanting up lazily, breath in punchy gasps in time with his strokes. 

Dee squeals a little, hand clamping over his mouth when David does what- what Dee _knew_ he would do. He’d travelled up, past Dee’s knee and along his upper thigh, staring at Dee’s pretty panties and licking his lips before diving in. He stares up at Dee, eyes challenging as his mouth works against the sheer ruffled fabric, soaking through. The noise he makes is as indecent as the act, snorting and breathy like he’s enjoying a particularly good meal. Dee can feel every swipe of his fat tongue against him through the fabric, can feel the especially sharp edge of David’s teeth when he presses hard enough, when he wants to feel Dee squirm against him.

David brings up his hand to crowd Dee’s thighs around his head, hand working quicker, mouth kissing up to his belly button and dipping his tongue in there, ‘David that’s _gross_!’ Dee says shrilly as, ashamedly and entirely predictably, he comes, back snapping forward into an arch, David’s palm soothing him back down like a spooked horse. 

‘Easy, Dee, there you go,’ he says, kisses softer now, sweet. He rests for a few moments, belly concave as he breathes, ribs fluttering against flesh, until the slick sounds return.

‘You want it, Dee?’ as if he has to ask.

Dee nods fussily, a high pitched mumble, as if scared he’ll be deprived, bubbling from his lips, _‘Please_.’

David likes when he’s polite.

Dee doesn’t much like the mud when he kneels down, how his plimsols will certainly have to be cleaned, and his dress too. His knees feel sore and he sighs as the gritty dirt pokes at his skin, sure there’ll be marks he hopes he won’t have to explain later.

It always makes him feel small like this, when David is standing over him, tall like a god, stroking himself, as big as anything, ‘No hands,’ comments David as he leans forward, trying to mouth his way around David’s manhood, a skill he certainly hasn’t perfected yet, sloppy and eager was what David liked anyway. 

David strokes himself still while Dee mouths at the head, kitten licks and hands bunching in the material of David’s jeans, ‘Please, David,’ he looks up, mouth open and head tilted to the side, tongue running over his lips and tasting, ‘won’t you?’ 

David’s breath grows laboured, his acts faster now, desperate, ‘I’ll give it you, Dee, whatever you want- _fuck-’_ Dee leans up his head to catch David’s spend as he pulls it from himself, stroking downwards now, hand shaking until the very last bit has landed precisely in Dee’s mouth. 

_‘Fuck_ , Dee,’ David says again, sounding ruined, Dee swallows and blinks, a cough rising in his throat but he suppresses it.

They walk to David’s car hand in hand, Dee wobbly on his feet and David a good crutch. When they get home David helps him carefully clean his dress in the sink, hem dirtied, and his panties too, so Dee doesn’t have the embarassment of explaining to Momma. 


End file.
